Wind's Harvest
by WillowDryad
Summary: Springtime breathes its warmth on Cair Paravel, but is there sorrow and trouble in the wind? Golden Age.
1. Chapter 1

**This story takes place after the events of "Contrite," which takes place after "If I Didn't Care," which takes place after "The Ciaramella." If you haven't read those stories yet, you can still read this one without being confused, but it will be better if you read those first.**

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter One

Long, booted strides as swift and silent as Orieus had taught him, Peter moved from shadow to shadow. Ten yards more. Five. One. He was in the doorway now, careful lest someone on the other side noticed him peering into the courtyard. He frowned, hearing heavy panting behind him.

"Stop breathing so loud," he hissed. "Do you want the whole Cair to know where I am?"

Babur wrinkled his broad nose and hissed back, "Maybe you'd rather have Bast helping you. I can call her."

The Tiger bared his fangs in a grin, knowing as well as Peter did that they'd both be in hot water if the Tiger's formidable twin sister caught them now.

"All right. All right. Just keep quiet." Peter peered out the doorway once more and then ducked back into the shadows. "You remember what to do."

"Leave it to me, Sire."

Babur wiped every trace of smugness off his whiskered face and padded out onto the grass towards the marble bench where Lady Linnet and her maid, Ada, sat enjoying the garden in the cool morning breeze. Ada, as always, was busy with her sewing. Peter had to stifle a laugh as the Tiger stole up next to her.

"Good morning, ladies."

The maid gave a little gasp and then put her pricked finger in her mouth. "You might give a bit of warning, Master Tiger, so please you."

Babur made a slight bow, though Peter could see a hint of a smirk on his face.

"I beg your pardon, Mistress Ada. I hope you are unhurt."

"She pricks her finger at least thrice a day, Babur," Linnet said, gray eyes twinkling, and Ada gave her a grudging smile.

"I fear I do, but, uh–" She made an apologetic little shrug. "It seems I can never quite get used to looking up from my needle and seeing an enormous Tiger smiling at me. Pardon my saying so, Master Tiger, and no offense meant."

Still Babur smirked. "None taken, Mistress Ada."

Linnet giggled and then her expression grew wary. "Where is the High King? He hasn't gotten out of bed, has he?"

Peter cringed. _Please, Linnet, don't be difficult now._

"He has been quite restless, My Lady," Babur told her, smoothly skirting her questions. "He says he is feeling very well now and sees no reason he cannot get up."

"Babur!" Linnet put her hands on her hips. "Besides the cuts and bruises _and_ the concussion, those Giants broke three of his ribs and cracked two more. It is a wonder his lung was not pierced. No doubt it will be if he does not take care until all of his injuries are healed." She sighed. "If only I had my ciaramella."

"You should have your new one any day now, lamb," Ada soothed.

"Indeed, My Lady," Babur said. "But until it arrives, we must find other ways to keep His Majesty from growing agitated. He particularly would like to be read to from that book his brother was reading yesterday. King Edmund is meeting with the council just now, but the High King believes he left the book here in the garden somewhere. Have either of you seen it?"

Linnet and Ada both shook their heads, and Babur sighed.

"And he particularly asked for that one. Do you think, Mistress Ada, that you might help me look for it?"

Ada at once put down her sewing and got to her feet. "Of course, Master Tiger."

"I'll help you look as well," Linnet said. "Then perhaps I should go read to him. It may help."

Babur ducked his head, hiding a grin. "I thank you, Lady Linnet. Mistress Ada and I will search over by those trees on the other side of the fountain. If you will check the bench over there by the doorway, that will be most helpful."

Before Ada could protest, Babur herded her away from her mistress. Peter sank further into the doorway as Linnet came towards him, her eyes on the ground, searching for the nonexistent book. When she was near enough, he pulled her into the shadows with him.

"Peter!"

"Shh, shh. Someone will hear you."

She glanced behind her to where Babur was leading Ada on a merry chase through the trees on the far side of the garden, and then she looked at Peter again, a touch of mischief behind her stern expression.

"What are you doing out of bed, My Lord? You know you're supposed to–"

"I'm supposed to not die of boredom. Bast and Susan will hardly even let me feed myself."

Linnet giggled. "Because you are a very naughty boy who will play with Giants."

Peter shuddered. "Not on purpose. But truly, Lady, I am practically well now. Surely a bit of fresh air and a walk will do me a world of good."

He gave her his most appealing grin, and she looked at him dubiously. His head was still bandaged and so were his ribs. He had a colorful collection of cuts and scrapes. His knuckles were a mottled yellow-green and purple from half healed bruises. No doubt she thought he looked thin and fragile and helpless. That was no way to impress a girl.

"Please, My Lady." He brought her hand to his lips and made his voice soft and intimate. "I've missed you, Linnet."

Again she tried to look stern, but he could see her soften. He could see the touch of pink that had come up in her cheeks.

"Just a walk?"

"Just a walk."

"Not a race or a sword fight or a joust?"

He chuckled. "Just a walk. I pledge it."

She gave him a coy look and took his arm. "Very well. But only for a little while. Let me just get Ada, and then–"

"No." He pressed his free hand over the one that held his arm. "She'll think she has to come with us, and then she'll have to tell Susan where we are. And Susan will make such a fuss, I'll never get to leave my bed again."

He tried his best imitation of the big-eyed look Lucy always used to get her own way, and Linnet shook her head in resignation.

"As you will, My Lord, but only for a few minutes. Besides, you know we'll be seen, and your sister will scold you right back into the Cair."

Peter held up one finger. "Ah, but there's where you are mistaken, Lady. Susan thinks I'm asleep, and Bast thinks Babur is watching over me for the morning. Besides, Susan is entertaining one of her suitors from Calormen, and Bast has gone to quietly intimidate him during his visit. I'll be back in bed before they even know I've been gone."

"But someone else will see us."

"Not the way we're going. Not if you're quick and quiet."

There was a spark of intrigue in her eyes. "And if we are caught?"

"I will protect you, Lady." He drew himself up, King, knight and warrior. "To the death."

She clung to him, suddenly doe-eyed and helpless. "My hero!"

He laughed and pulled her closer to his side. "Now come this way."

He took her down one of the back hallways, alongside the kitchens and out a little gate to a path that led through the waving grasses along the edge of the sand.

"Will not someone see us out in the open there?" she asked.

"No, no. Come along."

They skirted the beach and then darted between the two enormous rocks that jutted into the water and marked a sharp curve where the shore turned north. They ducked through a little opening barely wide enough to squeeze through, and then he stopped, smiling at Linnet's reaction.

"Oh," she breathed, squeezing his arm more tightly. "Oh, it is glorious."

It was only a little grotto the Merfolk sometimes used, a nearly circular hollow inside the rocks. The lapping waves had worn the stone into steps down near the water, going deeper and deeper still until they could no longer be seen. Sunlight peeped through the crevices in the rock above and reflected off the water, shimmering and dancing all around the grotto walls.

Peter would never have admitted it, but after so long on bed rest, he did feel rather shaky, so he sat on one of the large boulders there in the sand and pulled Linnet down next to him.

"All we need now is some music. It has been a long while since then, but I still remember how the Mermaids sang for our coronation. It was like nothing I had ever heard before, though Oreius says only the Stars are more gifted in music." Again he kissed her hand. "And you–"

Hearing something scrabbling at the back of the grotto, he leapt to his feet, drawing his dagger and pushing Linnet behind him. "Who's there?"

For a moment there was silence, and then again the sound of something or someone scrabbling over the rocks.

Peter tightened his grip on the dagger. "Show yourself."

The leathery flap of wings echoed in the grotto as a grumbling black Bat flew up towards the rock ceiling and out of one of the fissures. Peter exhaled and sat next to Linnet again.

"I suppose I should have made certain we were alone."

She smiled, loosening her tight grip on his hand. "It stands to reason we would not be the only ones wishing to spend time in such a lovely place."

"You like it?"

She nodded, eyes shining. "Does Narnia never run out of wonders, My Lord?"

"I have not found the end of them yet, Lady." He squeezed the hand he held. "And Aslan seems to always send me new ones."

Her long lashes swept to her cheeks, and even in the dusky half-light, he could see that she blushed.

"The– the Mermaids sang for you?"

"They did, My Lady. But that was nothing like the wondrous music you have played for me."

Her blush deepened. "I wish I could have played for you while you were recovering from these latest injuries. It would have made the time pass more quickly for you, and you would have been much better behaved."

"I wish you had allowed me to commission a new ciaramella for you sooner than you did." He squeezed her hand. "I had no idea they took so long to make."

"Only the good ones," she assured him.

"It is the finest, My Lady, I promise you. It will be good for you to play again."

She ducked her head a little. "I was not certain I would want to, My Lord."

"My Lady, Aslan has given you a great gift. It was not your music that was evil, only the evil use that was made of it."

"After what happened to you. I was afraid–"

She squeezed his hand once more, and his throat tightened with sudden emotion. She had been afraid he would die. It had been late summer, nearly nine months ago, when they had only really begun to be acquainted, but she had cared for him even then. How much more now–

"Linnet," he breathed, pulling her into his arms. "Sweet Linnet, you do love me, don't you?"

She pressed her face against his shoulder, her only answer a quick nod.

"Linnet," he urged. "Me, I mean. Just– just Peter."

Again she nodded, her face still hidden, and he pulled back from her, wanting to, _needing_ to see her eyes.

Those eyes were filled with tears, like the mist-gray sea in a relentless storm.

"Oh, Peter, you know how long I have loved you. Just you. Just for who you are. And no matter where you are or what you do, even if you were still a schoolboy in that Place Aslan brought you from, you would always be a King." She put one soft hand to his cheek. "You would always be my King."

He covered her hand with his and then turned his head, pressing his lips tenderly to her palm. "I hadn't meant to say this yet, My Lady. Linnet." His mouth went suddenly dry. "Linnet, I've had a lot of time to think since I came home from Ettinsmoor. Mostly I've thought how much I want you with me. Not just at the Cair, but– but always."

Her lips trembled into a soft smile, and a tear trickled down her cheek. "Peter."

"Linnet, I–"

He broke off at the sound of more scrabbling and got to his feet. Maybe now wasn't the time. Linnet looked a little puzzled, and he gave her a faint grin.

"Blasted Bat. None of them has a bit of tact."

That wasn't really true. Most of the Bats he'd met were quite polite. Still he'd had to say something.

Her eyes searched his, but she managed a bit of a smile, too. "I did not know that."

"Well," he admitted, "not all of them. Edmund and I met some once in a keep north of here–"

Again he broke off. The furtive little sounds he was hearing were definitely not made by Bats. Not unless they had suddenly grown hooves or taken to wearing boots.

"Stay here."

His dagger was a pitiful substitute for Rhindon, but he drew it all the same. Oreius was going to kill him for leaving his guard behind. And Linnet–

He crept back to her as silently as he was able. "Listen to me, My Lady. This may be nothing. But if there is someone out there, an enemy, do not come after me, do you understand?"

"Peter–"

"I mean it. Go down the steps and into the water. All you need do is dive down a few feet and swim into the sea. You'll come out in the cove. From there, the Merfolk will see you. They'll help you. Do you understand?"

She nodded swiftly and then grabbed both of his hands. "Please, My Lord, let us both swim away. You are not well enough to fight them, especially with nothing but a dagger."

He opened his mouth to protest, but he saw the fear in her eyes and the wisdom in her words. He had more than himself to consider here. Who would defend her if he were killed?

"Right then." With a comforting squeeze, he released her hands and gave her a wink. "I'll just have a look. We'd look pretty silly swimming out to sea if the only ones out there are Edmund and Mr. Tumnus."

She nodded. She knew as well as he did that anyone with friendly intentions would have some while ago made his presence known.

"Now, sharp's the word," he whispered. "If I tell you to go or if you hear a struggle out there, dive in and don't look back."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek and then crept towards the grotto's entrance. He could see nothing through the crevice but blue sky and golden sand. For a moment there was perfect silence, then he heard a faint and nasty laugh. Above him.

He looked up to see the Bat leering over him. "What are you–?"

A heavy blow to his head drove him to his knees. Another across his back pitched him face down on the rocks.

"Peter!" Linnet cried from somewhere in the whirling blackness above him, and he felt her pulling at him, tugging him by the wrists.

No. No, no, no. She wasn't supposed to come to him. She was supposed to vanish into the sea. Into safety.

He tried to say her name, tried to command her to do as she had been told. Instead he coughed up a mouthful of blood. Ribs. Broken again. _Aslan, make her go. _

A sly laugh came from somewhere behind him.

"Shall I help you, My Lady?" a strange voice said. "Surely that is too great a burden for so delicate a lady."

Peter heard Linnet's muffled cry as she was pulled away from him. He struggled to lift his head, fought to order whoever dared lay hands on her to release her at once. Instead someone took hold of his wrists, someone with large, bruising hands, and dragged him across the grotto floor.

"No!" Linnet shrieked. "No! Peter!"

Again he tried to answer, to struggle free, to fight, but he was half-choked now with blood, hardly able to draw breath for the knife-like pain in his ribs, hardly able to hear Linnet's cries anymore. Why had the motion stopped? Were their attackers gone?

He could not hold back a gasping groan as someone shoved him in the back. Then Linnet's screams were muffled by a sudden, cold rush of water, and arms and legs useless, he sank into the sea.

**Author's Note: Here I am again with more adventure, angst, fluff and other mayhem. Many, many, many thanks to Lady Alambiel for her brainstorming genius, pre-reading and all around greatness. Do let me know what you think and if you want more.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Two

"They simply do not listen to me."

Lucy gave Duke Darreth a sympathetic pat on the arm as she sat beside him at the council table. He was right. Even though he had been a Duke for the past six years, even though he had been the one to arrange this conclave, none of the other island lords gathered here in Terebinthia showed anything but the most perfunctory interest in his concerns and suggestions. Perhaps it was because he did not possess the forceful personality of his late father and brother. Perhaps it was because he was only twenty-three. Of course, seeing that she and her brothers and sister had been ruling Narnia since she was eight and she was just twenty now, twenty-three seemed a perfectly capable age to her. Clearly, the nobility outside of Narnia did not agree. It seemed rather obvious that, if not for the summons sent out by the High King, none of them would have even bothered to attend this meeting.

"What am I doing wrong?"

She gave Darreth's arm a reassuring squeeze. "You just can't let them bully you. And you can't care whether or not they like how you run things here. As long as you try to do what's right, nothing else matters."

He looked over her shoulder, his expression wary, and she knew he was looking at Oreius.

"I suppose," Darreth said, "it doesn't hurt to have formidable friends as well."

Lucy gave the Centaur general a reproving glance, certain he'd been glowering again, and then smiled at the Duke. "We are your friends. Both of us. Narnia is your friend, too. And I am here to make sure all these lords remember it. My brothers in particular are not pleased to hear that you are the only one in the islands, including your King, who gives more than lip service to our edicts against slavery."

"I imagine they would not be," Darreth said.

He cringed slightly under Oreius's stony glare. It had been six years since he and his elder brother, Arren, had betrayed Peter and Edmund. Now Arren was long dead, and Darreth had redeemed himself in helping the boys escape from Calormene slavery. He and the Pevensies were all friends now, but Oreius was not so quick to forgive. Not so quick to trust. Not so quick to allow another of his sovereigns to come to Terebinthia unguarded.

Lucy was glad to have the Centaur with her even on a purely diplomatic mission. As Darreth had said, it was good to have formidable friends. If these island lords did not respect her simply for being Queen of Narnia, at least they would not easily forget the power she represented. Oreius would not allow it.

"Anything else we ought to discuss before everyone else arrives?" Lucy asked.

Darreth shrugged slightly. "I am not sure how you will get them to care about something that does not inconvenience them in the least."

Lucy's mouth tightened. "They'll be inconvenienced enough if Peter starts doubling and tripling their fines for allowing the slave trade to go on unchecked."

"They will merely say they are doing as best they can. As they always do."

She smiled tightly. "Then perhaps we should find others who can do better. I am certain there are those on the islands who would enjoy the privileges of rank and would give honest service in return."

Darreth glanced behind him towards the council chamber's closed doors. "You may not wish to mention any of that just yet, Your Majesty."

Lucy frowned. "Why not?"

"There is something brewing." Again Darreth glanced back at the doors, his voice lower than before. "I have heard rumors for some little while now, but had nothing more concrete. Now, well– Two of my servants have reported overhearing bits of conversation among the Lords staying here for the conclave. They speak of independence from Narnia and striking out on their own."

Lucy shook her head. "That's been the talk since Peter was first High King. When Narnia began demanding her rightful tribute again."

"This is different, My Lady." Darreth looked at Oreius as if to emphasize the truth of what he was saying. "They are saying now is the time because of what is happening in Narnia."

This time it was Lucy who looked at Oreius. The Centaur's impassive expression had not changed, but she knew him well enough to read concern in it.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "What's happening in Narnia?"

"I– I'm not entirely certain, Your Majesty. But I may be able to find out if you will help me."

"Of course."

Darreth's hazel eyes lit, and he leaned confidentially closer. "If we were to have a bit of a falling out during the meeting, Your Majesty, if you were to make it clear that Narnia is not pleased with how I have governed here and that I could easily be replaced, and if, by your leave, I were to come close to threatening rebellion against you and the High King, perhaps they would take me into their confidence later on."

Lucy couldn't suppress a grin. Yes, this was serious business, but she did love playing politics. "Oh, let's do!"

Darreth looked over at Oreius. "And if your General will be good enough to look quite threatening when I dare contradict his Queen, it can only improve our chances."

Lucy laughed and clasped her hands together. "Oh, excellent. Yes, Oreius, you must."

The Centaur made a slight bow. "As you wish, My Queen."

"Now," she said, "I hear them in the passage. We ought to give them a little taste of what's to come."

Darreth's forehead wrinkled. "Your Majesty, I–"

"You will, My Lord Duke!" Lucy shoved back her chair and stood, her voice suddenly cold and imperious. "I am here in the name of the High King, and I say you will!"

Darreth blinked at her and then gave her a quick grin, making his voice as sharp and implacable as hers. "The High King, madam? The High King? By my life and my father's, the High King has no more right–"

He broke off and turned to see the island lords standing there in the now-open door, their eyes wide and uncertain. Lucy tossed her head and, lips pursed, sat down again. Darreth pasted on a smile.

"Come in, My Lords, and welcome. Queen Lucy and I were merely discussing a minor matter, nothing to concern the rest of you. Come in and sit down."

OOOOO

Lucy rolled over, unable to sleep. Not that the chamber Darreth had provided for her was anything but deliciously comfortable and very nearly rivaled her own at Cair Paravel, but she just couldn't relax. Not until she knew whether or not the little performance she and the Duke had put on earlier had had its desired effect. Not until she knew exactly what these lords had on their treacherous little minds and how it affected Narnia.

She rolled over again and buried her head under the coverlet. Then she froze. Someone was in the room. Her fingers tightened around the little dagger under her pillow and she held her breath. Someone was standing beside the bed, leaning over her, reaching towards her. Blade ready, she sprang up–

"Darreth!" She flung herself back against the pillows in relief. "What in all the worlds are you doing here? I might have cut your throat."

The Duke swallowed hard and ducked his head. "Forgive me, Queen Lucy. I realize it is unpardonable for me to come into your chamber in such a manner, but I had to speak to you without anyone knowing."

She sat up, still with the bedclothes clutched against her. "What happened? What have you found out?"

He glanced around the dark room and then leaned towards her. "It was as we hoped, Your Majesty. Seeing our little comedy played out during the conclave, some of the lords invited me to drink with them after tonight's banquet, since I was 'of like mind' with them."

Lucy grinned. "Perfect. And then?"

"And then they told me–"

With a near-silent gasp, Darreth shot up into the air and hovered there above her.

She frowned. "Put him down, Oreius."

From over the squirming Duke's shoulder, the Centaur general scowled at her. "Your royal brothers, My Queen, would not hesitate to break a man's neck for such an insult to your honor. In their place, I can do no less."

She scowled right back. How someone so large, and with iron-shod hooves to boot, managed to move so undetectably, she'd never know.

"Don't be silly, Oreius. This has nothing to do with my honor. Now put him down."

With a huff, the Centaur released the collar of Darreth's tunic, letting him clatter into a heap on the floor.

The Duke immediately scrambled to his feet, careful to stay a discreet three feet from Lucy's bedside. "Truly, sir, I meant no offense whatsoever to Her Majesty."

The General flicked his tail. "And how did you manage to get past me and the rest of her guard?"

Darreth paled. "Th-there is a passage from the library below into the sitting room of this chamber. I give you my word, I would never have considered using it if it were not an urgent matter of state."

The fury in Oreius's glare turned to wariness. "Go on."

Darreth drew a steadying breath. "It is as I told you, Queen Lucy. The island lords think now would be a good time to assert their independence from Narnia. They even have the support of a few of our Terebinthian Dukes, though not our King. Not yet. He finds it too much to his advantage to be under Narnia's protection."

Oreius snorted but said nothing.

"Why now?" Lucy asked.

"There is talk of rebellion in Narnia herself, Your Majesty," Darreth said. "I did not hear many details, to say the truth, only that someone is stirring up sedition in the northwest and that there have been some attacks here and there. Mostly isolated. Traders at some of the borders. Sailors. An isolated village here and there. There is not much to go on now, but they say it is going to worsen. It is then the island lords mean to take their stand."

"I have heard of these incidents in Narnia," Oreius said, his voice a grave rumble. "My soldiers have been unable to find anything to connect them to each other. King Edmund has his spies looking for information, too, as well as meeting with the council on the matter."

Lucy bit her lip, considering. "Should we go back home at once, Oreius? Or would we do better to stay here and see what else we can learn?"

"We do not wish to seem alarmed, My Queen. It might make these seditious lords suspect we are aware of their schemes. We should remain until the conclave is over. Your brothers and sister are well able to see to things in Cair Paravel." Oreius took firm hold of Darreth's arm. "And we will leave you to your rest."

Darreth blinked. "Of– of course, Your Majesty. Goodnight."

Oreius hurried him to the door.

"Darreth," Lucy called softly, and Oreius reluctantly released his hold.

"Your Majesty?" the Duke whispered.

"Thank you."

"Goodnight, My Queen," Oreius said, only a bit of scolding in his rumbling voice, and then he escorted Darreth out, shutting the door firmly behind them.

With a giggle, Lucy nestled back into the downy bed. Darreth was so very nice. He was rather like Edmund, doing everything he could to be a man of honor once he had gotten back on the right path. Her giggle faded into a sigh. Thinking of Edmund made her think of home.

He would probably have all kinds of information by now on whatever was going on in Narnia. And, no matter if he was still bruised up from those Giants, Peter was probably helping him. And Susan– A grin came back to Lucy's lips. Susan was probably already planning a wedding even if Peter hadn't proposed to Linnet yet. Linnet was a dear and just perfect for Peter, even if it had taken him an eternity to realize it.

This time her sigh was one of drowsy bliss. She was sure Peter would propose to Linnet soon. And it would be nice to leave all the turmoil here in Terebinthia and get back home where there was only peace and happiness.

Peace and happiness.

**Author's Note: You can read about Darreth and his brother in my story "Refined by Fire." I'd love to know what you think of this new chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Three

Edmund studied the documents laid out before him on the great table in the council chamber. More killings. A little settlement in the mountains just outside of Ettinsmoor had been wiped out, man, woman and child, but there was no evidence that the Giants were responsible. On the eastern edge of his own great Woods, a man had carried out his trade, the last of a long line of woodcutters, until he and his family had been murdered, their home burned down around them as they slept. Farther south, a few miles from Archenland, a small copper mine had collapsed, killing eighteen men. The Dwarfs who examined the rubble found definite signs that someone had cut through strategic bits of timbering, rigging it so the tunnel would cave in while the miners were at work.

These were only the most recent incidents. In the past few weeks, they had become more frequent and more deadly. It wasn't just a traveling merchant or a couple of sailors anymore.

Edmund pressed his lips together, looking from one to another of the various creatures present. "And no one has seen anything? None of the Animals? The Dryads?"

Mr. Tumnus tugged at his red knitted scarf and looked faintly apologetic. "No, Your Majesty. It does seem rather odd, but the incidents happened in such remote places, we can find no one who has any information about them."

Pursing his lips, Edmund turned to the Raven perched on the chair back next to him. "Nothing from our spies either, Sallowpad?"

"Nothing, Sire," the Raven croaked. "The Dwarfs seemed rather close-lipped on the subject of the cave-in, and there were some Vultures near the remains of the woodcutter's hut who we think must have seen something, but they will only say the business of humans is none of theirs."

Edmund blew out his breath in frustration. "I suppose none of the rest of you have anything to add?"

He scanned the grim faces around the table. "Sir Elliot?"

The large white-and-tabby-striped Cat merely shook his head. "I fear not, King Edmund. If we had more information, particularly the reason behind these killings, then we could certainly formulate a strategy–"

"King Edmund! King Edmund!" A Swallow fluttered in through the open window and landed on the table in front of Edmund. "Please, King Edmund! I have a message! I have a message!"

Edmund managed a bit of a smile. Birds generally made excellent spies, but the young ones sometimes took more than their share of training before they were of any real use.

"What is it, Chip?"

"I have to tell it to you and nobody else, King Edmund. Just you. Please, King Edmund, just you."

The Swallow hopped and bobbed, fluttering his curved blue-black wings, and Edmund held out one finger for a makeshift perch. When Chip grasped it, Edmund excused himself and hurried into the little side room off the council chamber.

"Now," Edmund said, shutting the door, "what is–"

"Please, Sire, you must come at once. The High King! The High King! Some of the Merfolk have him down on the beach, near the big rocks at the north end of the cove. Purl and Tweedle are staying with him, but, please, hurry. He is as white as an egg and still as a nest when the fledglings have gone."

"Peter? What–" Edmund took two gulping breaths. "Quick as you can now, Chip, go tell Milos what you just told me. You haven't told anyone else, have you?"

"No, Sire. No one."

"Very well. Tell Milos to hurry."

The Swallow fluttered away, and Edmund raced out of the little room, stopping only to order the Cheetah on guard to make his excuses to the waiting members of the council. _Peter, you idiot, what have you done now? _There was something hollow and foreboding in the thud of Edmund's boots as he ran. Peter was supposed to be in bed, recovering from what those Giants had done to him. How could he be down at the beach? _White as an egg . . . still as a nest when the fledglings have gone. _Edmund's stomach knotted, his throat tightened, his lungs burned for lack of air. _Run. Run, don't let it be too late, run. Run!_

The stones of the castle corridors became the grass of the courtyard and then the sand of the beach. Empty. The beach was empty. _Run. Run. _What had Chip said? At the north end of the cove. Near the big rocks. _Run!_

At last he saw them in the shadow of the rocks, two Mermaids and a Merman bobbing in the water. Peter was in the middle of them, dragged halfway onto the beach, battered and bloodied. White. Still. _Oh, Peter._

The Swallows, Purl and Tweedle, Chip's nestmates, fluttered overhead.

"Hurry, King Edmund! Hurry! It's the High King! It's the High King!"

Edmund dropped to his knees in the sand and touched his fingers to Peter's cold cheek. There was a watery trickle of blood at one corner of his mouth. He wasn't breathing.

"Peter."

Edmund held one hand against his brother's throat, turning desperate eyes to the Merfolk when he felt no pulse. One of the Mermaids, the younger one with silvery locks that fell past her shimmering hips, held Peter's limp hand, eyes full of grief and pity. The other bowed her head as a tear slipped down her pale cheek.

The Merman frowned and pressed his long, white fingers over Peter's heart. "High King. High King."

At the stern, almost otherworldly command, Peter quivered and then coughed up more seawater, faintly red. Edmund's heart gave a painful lurch as it began to beat again, and then he saw Milos galloping along the beach towards them, chestnut hair and tail flying in the wind.

Chip darted along above. "We're coming, King Edmund! We're coming!"

"They're coming! They're coming, King Edmund! They're coming!" Purl and Tweedle peeped as they swooped and circled. "They're coming!"

"Hold on, brother mine," Edmund whispered, taking hold of Peter's free hand. "Help is here."

"He lives still?" the Centaur healer asked as he clattered to a stop beside them, concern in his dark eyes. "Can he be moved, Neros?"

The Swallows settled on Edmund's shoulders, bead-black eyes alert, all four of them taking in every word.

"With great care," the Merman replied, the words grim even in the low, almost-musical tone that was common to his people. "Even in the air, his breathing is wet and tinged red, and since we brought him up, he has not wakened. But we see nothing to show he should not be taken back to Cair Paravel. He needs tending by Landfolk, not us."

"I'll carry him," Edmund said, the Swallows fluttering back into the air as he leapt to his feet, but the Centaur held up one cautioning hand.

"Better allow me, My King. If his lung is pierced, he must be handled very carefully."

Edmund nodded. Peter's breathing was shallow and irregular. The healer would best know how to get him up to the Cair without hurting him more. As gently as he was able, Edmund lifted Peter, still dripping seawater, into the Centaur's arms. Then he bowed briefly to the Merfolk.

"Thank you for tending to him. I will need to speak to you later about what happened."

"Forgive us, Majesty," the Merman said, and there was regret on his almost-impassive face. "We know nothing but that we found him in the sea as you see him now and sent the Swallow to bring help." He inclined his head towards the Mermaid with the silvery locks. "Moana believes he fell into the water from our grotto, but we do not know that for certain. It is a great pity."

Again Edmund nodded, struggling to steady himself before he spoke again. "We are much in your debt. All of you."

The Merfolk bowed in graceful unison, and Edmund turned to the Centaur.

"We'll take him up the back path and up our private stairs to his quarters. We can't have this get out just now. Not with Susan entertaining a Calormene suitor."

"I understand, Your Majesty," Milos said. "But we must hurry."

Edmund led the way through the rocks and up to the Cair. About halfway there, he looked up at the Swallows who were escorting them.

"Chip, hurry on ahead and tell the High King's valet to prepare his bed. Tweedle, go and tell the Queen Susan she is needed in the High King's chamber. And Purl, see if you can find the Lady Linnet. Ask her to come, too."

"We will!" the Swallows chirped as they fluttered into the air. "We'll hurry! We'll hurry!"

"And keep quiet," Edmund reminded them. "No one must know what has happened. Do you understand?"

The three of them nodded and, without a peep, darted away.

Despite the urgency of the situation, the Centaur moved at an agonizingly slow pace. Peter never stirred, scarcely breathed, until they reached his quarters. His Faun valet hovered beside the turned-down bed, concern on his sharp features.

"Help me get these wet things off him," the healer ordered, and the valet at once began tugging Peter's sodden tunic.

Jostled, Peter coughed and made an almost-inaudible cry of pain, and again there was a trickle of red, this time thicker and darker, at the corner of his mouth.

"Careful!" Edmund snapped, and Milos put one hand on his shoulder.

"See to his boots," he said to the Faun. "And be easy."

The valet hurried to the end of the bed and began struggling with Peter's waterlogged bootlaces. Edmund did his best to help the Centaur ease first the tunic and then the shirt off Peter's broken body, but every touch seemed to agitate him more. Finally they were obliged to cut the garments away.

Edmund's heart wrenched at the sight of the black and purple bruises in his brother's death-white flesh. Peter's wheezing breaths hardly made his chest rise and fall, and he shivered pitifully as the healer examined him.

"How bad is it?" Edmund asked when the examination was over and Peter's battered head and ribs were deftly bandaged.

"Bad enough, Majesty," Milos said, his dark face grim as he and the valet eased Peter into a clean nightshirt and then covered him in a warmed blanket. "His earlier injuries have been aggravated. He is very likely concussed again. I cannot say his skull is not fractured. His ribs have gone from cracked to broken. He is most certainly bleeding inside. If he does not–"

Peter gasped, writhing as he struggled for breath, and Edmund at once gave his shoulder a soothing squeeze.

"Peter, you're all right. Just breathe. You're home. You're all right."

"Calmly now, Majesty," Milos intoned.

For a moment more, Peter wheezed, and then he turned his head and coughed, staining the white pillow with frothy red.

"Do something," Edmund pled as he lifted Peter's head and blotted his stained lips with a towel. Peter was drawing hard breaths now, his face twisted in agony, his cries low and weak and each one a dagger to Edmund's heart. "For pity's sake, there must be more you can do."

The door flew open and Susan swept in, her blue eyes round as she surveyed the scene. "Edmund, what happened? Tweedle said–"

"We don't know what happened, Su. I was in the council meeting when Chip came to tell me Peter was on the beach, hurt."

"Oh, Peter." Susan sat on the bed beside their older brother, cupping his bloodless cheek in her gentle hand, blue eyes full of worry. "How bad is it?"

Edmund glanced at Milos. "Very bad. All of the injuries he had from the Giants are worse now. He probably has a punctured lung. Maybe a fractured skull. I thought he was supposed to be up here on bed rest still." He spotted one of Peter's Tigers peering around Susan's skirts. "What happened, Bast? Why was he down at the beach? Why weren't you and Babur with him?"

The Tigress looked grave as she padded up to the bedside and more than a little angry. "His Majesty ordered me to attend the Queen Susan while she entertained Prince Zviad. Babur was to watch over the High King until my return. I do not know where Babur is now, My King. He always–"

"I am here, Sire."

Babur slunk into the room, ears and tail drooping, eyes downcast. He crept up to the bed and nudged Peter's limp hand with his nose. When there was no response, he let out a heavy breath.

"The fault of this is mine."

Bast glared at him, but no one said anything until he finally lifted his head.

"What happened?" Edmund asked, fighting to keep his voice steady when he wanted to explode. "Why did you leave your charge?"

"It was meant to be only for a moment, Sire. You know how restless the High King has been since he began to mend. I was–" The Tiger ducked his head again. "I was to distract Mistress Ada so he could walk out with the Lady Linnet for a short while. So I–"

"So you left him?" Edmund glanced at his brother as he lay on the bed struggling just to breathe. "Not only did you let him get up when you were specifically ordered to see he stayed in bed, you let him leave the Cair? Alone?"

"It seemed harmless enough, Sire. I thought–" Babur looked pleadingly at his flint-faced twin and then bowed his striped head. "I have no excuse, My Liege. It is all my fault."

Susan reached across Peter and touched Edmund's shoulder, eyes wide with fear. "Where's Linnet? Is she all right?"

They both looked at Babur.

"She was with Peter," Edmund said. "Where is she now?"

Feeling the slightest tug at his arm, he looked down to see Peter's pale fingers twisted into his sleeve.

"Lin't," he breathed. "Lin't."

He murmured something else, his breathing suddenly more rapid and labored than before.

"Shh," Susan soothed, stroking back his damp hair. "Just rest. It will be all right."

Edmund leaned down to him, taking his hand. "What happened, Peter? Where's Linnet?"

Again Peter muttered something unintelligible, struggling again to breathe, fighting to sit up.

"Rest now, Your Majesty," Milos said, moving closer. "You must lie still."

"Peter, please." Again Susan cupped Peter's cheek in one hand, her anxious eyes on Edmund. "Just rest."

Edmund held Peter where he was, dismayed at how little strength it took, but Peter somehow managed to grasp his wrist.

"Edmund," he rasped. "Lin't. Please."

Edmund gave Babur a piercing glare. "Where is she? Did she go with Peter?"

The Tiger's chin dropped to his furry chest. "The Lady Linnet is gone."

**Author's Note: I'd love to know what you think is going on and if you're enjoying the story. More to come!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Four

"Gone?" Edmund glared at the Tiger cringing at Peter's bedside. "The Lady Linnet is gone?"

Babur winced. "The Swallow Purl came looking for her. Purl told me what had happened to– to the High King." He glanced at Peter, pale, bloodied and bandaged, and then let his head sink lower on his chest. "I ran down to the grotto to see if the lady was there. I found nothing but signs of the struggle and the marks of hooves and boots. She is gone."

"Oh, Edmund, no," Susan sobbed, tears welling into her eyes. "No. Peter will never–"

"Ed," Peter gasped, somehow tightening his grip on Edmund's wrist. "Lin't tak-en." Again he struggled for breath. "Don't know– how many–"

"Majesty," the Centaur healer said, his voice slow and distinct, "you must not upset yourself. Lie still now."

Susan patted Peter's cheek. "Shhh. It's all right. It's all right. We'll send for Lucy to come home and bring the cordial."

"Can't– wait. Have to find–"

"Try to keep still," Edmund said, leaning closer to him. "Tell me everything you remember."

"Bat." Again Peter's hold grew tighter. "Watch-ing us. Must have– signaled. Didn't–"

He grimaced as he struggled for breath. Susan blotted the sweat from his forehead, silently pleading for Edmund to do something.

"Tell me," Edmund urged.

"Didn't see. Couldn't–"

Peter squeezed his eyes shut, writhing and gritting his teeth, his grip so tight now, Edmund was afraid his wrist would break.

"Stop, Edmund," Susan pled. "You've got to stop."

Peter shook his head, not opening his eyes. "No. Listen." He exhaled rapidly, three or four times, and then his breathing steadied. "Didn't see. Heard one– one voice– maybe human– maybe not. Hooves." He panted again, and there was a fleck of red at the corner of his mouth. "Boots. Hit me– behind– Lin-net scream-ing– water– cold– dark."

"No more, King Edmund," Milos said, his dark face stern. "He cannot bear–"

"No," Peter groaned, panting as he fought to sit up. "Have to–"

"Peter!" Susan gasped, trying to help Edmund hold him still.

"Ed. Help– me. Help me find– her. Have to–"

"Peter." Edmund kept his voice low and calm. "Listen to me. Listen."

Abruptly, Peter's struggles stopped, and the only sound was the uneven rasp of his breathing.

"You know you can't go."

"Ed–"

"You _know_ you can't. What good will you do her if you kill yourself just getting out of bed?"

"Have to."

Again Peter tried to push himself up, but Edmund held him there with one hand and very little force.

"If you can't even get past me, Peter, what are you going to do against someone who means you harm?"

Peter merely looked at him, pleading, desperate. Then he sank back against the pillows, eyes closed, face lined with pain and despair. "She– she trusted– me. I let– let them– take her. Eddie, please . . . "

A single tear trickled out of the corner of his eye and was lost in his tousled hair. Its twin glimmered on their sister's cheek.

"I'll bring her back to you, Peter."

Peter didn't open his eyes, but he still gripped Edmund's wrist. "Can't– can't wait. Send patrols–"

"No, not soldiers."

"Ed–"

"They'll just kill her if we send troops. I will go."

Susan glanced at Edmund, clearly not liking this plan.

"Not– alone. Not– enough," Peter rasped. "Too many– of them."

"It'll be all right." Edmund put his free hand over the one now nearly crushing his wrist. "I'll take Philip and my Wolves. We'll be able to sneak up on whoever has Linnet without being seen."

The crushing grip tightened. "They'll kill– kill her."

Susan blotted Peter's face again, making soft, soothing noises to calm him, but her anxious eyes were once more on Edmund.

"No. Peter, listen to me." Again Edmund waited until his brother was still. "They took her for some reason. If they meant to kill her, they would have done it there in the grotto. So, unless we blunder up on them with the whole army, they'll keep her alive until they reach wherever they mean to take her."

Peter lay there staring at him, his raspy breathing slowing, too spent to struggle anymore. Edmund gently loosened his hold on his wrist.

"I'll find her, brother mine." He stood up, managing a slight, reassuring smile. "I'll bring her back."

Peter nodded rapidly. "Trust you– Ed." His eyes filled with tears. "Trust you."

Edmund felt his own throat tighten. Of course he did. And it was all Edmund needed to know. He touched the back of his hand to Peter's too-warm cheek.

"I'll bring her home."

"Edmund–" Susan began, but he interrupted with a kiss to her forehead.

"Look after him, Su."

He hurried out the door, but she was right behind him.

"Edmund, wait."

With an impatient scowl, he hurried her into the small sitting room across the corridor. "Not in public, Su. You know this can't get out. Not with that blasted Calormene here."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just–"

"I have to hurry. The longer I wait, the farther away they'll take Linnet. Look, just tell everyone that Peter, as usual, was overdoing things and Milos said he has to have complete bed rest and no visitors. Your Prince Fancypants didn't come here to see Peter anyway."

Susan pursed her lips. "I know that, Edmund. I'll take care of it. I'm just not sure you ought to be going after Linnet by yourself."

"I told you, I'm taking Phillip and the Greybacks. I think I'll take Chip, too. He'll be pretty handy for reconnaissance."

"Edmund," Susan huffed, "that's not–"

"I would like permission to accompany you, King Edmund."

Edmund and Susan both turned to see Babur standing at the door he had obviously nudged open.

"Why?" Glaring, Edmund pushed the door closed behind him. "So you can abandon your post again?"

"Edmund!" Susan's eyes flashed. "That was uncalled for."

Babur sat there, head up, shoulders back, unflinching, all soldier. "It is just, My Queen. His Majesty is always just."

For a moment more, Edmund still glared, and then he shook his head in disgust. "Your request is denied. Stay here. When Oreius gets back, maybe he can find you work in the armory. Cleaning gear or something."

The Tiger winced and then bowed his head. "As you say, Majesty."

When Edmund said nothing more, he excused himself and slunk out of the room.

"Edmund!" Susan began when he was gone, but again Edmund cut her off.

"I don't have time for this. Send for Lucy and Oreius to come back right away. I'll send you news when I have any."

She gave him a wounded look and then curtsied. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Su." He took her into his arms, kissing her cheek and then her forehead as she began to sob against him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't stay. I don't want to leave either of you."

She blinked hard and put on a smile. "I know. Linnet needs you now. I'll take care of Peter."

"And, please, Su." He held her at arm's length so he could see her eyes. "When Lucy gets home, both of you stay in the Cair and stay with your guards. I don't like whatever is going on in Narnia right now. Whether Peter's being left for dead and Linnet's abduction is part of it, I can't say, but I want you girls to be safe. Promise me."

He could see myriad questions in Susan's eyes, but she only nodded.

"You be safe, too." She brushed back the fringe of hair that fell over his forehead, her expression softening. "And remember to eat."

"Don't worry about that. I'm taking Philip, remember? He's worse than you about keeping me fed up."

That teased a faint smile out of her, and she hugged him one last time. "You'd better hurry."

"I'll be back, Su," he whispered as he released her.

He opened the door to the corridor, stepping back so she could go first. As she walked through, she glanced back over her shoulder, her smile just the tiniest bit brighter.

"I know you will. You promised Peter."

Before she could cross to Peter's chamber door, there was a sudden flutter of blue-black wings and a peeping little voice.

"King Edmund! King Edmund!"

Edmund looked up at the circling Swallow. "Oh, Chip. Good. I need you to–"

"There you are!"

Edmund and Susan both turned to look down the corridor. A short, plump little woman in blue was bustling towards them. Babur slunk along behind her.

"Mistress Ada," Edmund began, looking pleadingly at Susan. "We, ah–"

Mistress Ada managed a slight curtsy. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesties both, and no disrespect meant, but I _will_ know what is going on and, if you will pardon me, at this very moment."

Susan, bless her, took the waiting woman's hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. Unfortunately, this only seemed to terrify the woman more.

"Where is she?" Mistress Ada demanded. "What have you done with my lamb? This– this Tiger will tell me nothing, and I know he was in on the plot to steal her away. Missing book indeed!"

Her attempt to look fierce was totally negated by the tears in her eyes.

Babur cleared his throat. "Forgive me, King Edmund, but I did not think it was my place–"

"Hear me, Mistress Ada," Edmund said, voice low, not deigning to look at the Tiger. "I have to go at once. You must have courage now, for your lady's sake."

Mistress Ada glanced, wide eyed, at Susan and then back at Edmund. "Please, My Lord–"

He leaned down to have his eyes level with hers and put a steadying hand on her shoulder, making his voice lower still. "Here it is, Mistress Ada. The High King took a walk with Lady Linnet down to the Merfolk's grotto at the beach. There they were attacked. He is badly injured."

"And she?" Mistress Ada gasped.

"We–" He glared at Babur. "We do not know. It seems she was taken by a company of no more than five or six. We do not know to what purpose, but I must see to getting her back before they get very far."

"Oh, my lady! My lamb!" Mistress Ada sobbed.

Susan pressed one of her own fine handkerchiefs into her hand. "Please, Mistress Ada, I know this is very difficult, but you must keep your voice down. We cannot have anyone know what has happened yet. Do you understand?"

The maid nodded, trying her best to stifle her sobs, and Susan slipped one arm around her.

"My brother has pledged to find her and bring her back," Susan soothed. "There is no one you can better rely on. We must trust Aslan to be with him and try not to worry."

Again Mistress Ada nodded, though she did not at all look convinced.

"Now, perhaps you would like to help me tend the High King? Since you are already aware of the situation, I would certainly be glad of the help."

"Y-yes, My Lady. It would be my honor."

Mistress Ada blotted her wet face, and Edmund smiled at his sister over the little woman's head. Su always knew how best to deal with people, and no doubt Mistress Ada would do best if her hands were kept busy..

"Chip," Edmund said, looking up, "if you will, go to my valet and have him pack my traveling gear and bring it down to the stables. And come down with him. I could use a good scout."

The Swallow had perched all this while on an empty iron sconce set in the wall, and now his feathers fluffed out and his round black eyes shone with pride.

"Me, King Edmund? Me?"

"Yes, but remember to keep quiet. Not a word now."

With a brief nod and a one-wing salute, Chip shot down the corridor and disappeared. Edmund's smile vanished as he turned to Babur.

"You are dismissed."

**Author's Note: So now what do you think? More to come!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Five

"King Edmund! King Edmund! They're coming! I got them! They're coming!"

Chip fluttered and swooped over Edmund's head as he finished securing his gear to Philip's saddle. The Horse blew out his breath but said nothing.

"I need them," Edmund said. "They're good trackers."

"They're irresponsible." Philip shook his bridle and huffed again. "If they weren't, they would already be at your side. As they are supposed to be."

"I was meeting with the council. I wasn't supposed to be through for another two or three hours," Edmund told him as he swung into the saddle. "Besides, I _ordered _them to go out to the training yard. You know they're a lot harder to handle when they've been cooped up."

Philip tossed his head, an equine shrug. "If you say so."

"They've grown up, Philip," Edmund assured him. "They've learned a lot since I first got them."

Before the Horse could respond with anymore than a dubious and rather sour glance, two large gray Wolves loped into the stable yard, tongues lolling. One of them had deep, fresh scratches on his nose.

"I told you you should have let me go first," the other one was saying.

"I had him! You bumped me just as I was about to run him off."

"You mean just as he was about to rip your head off."

The first Wolf touched his paw to his damaged nose and frowned. "He was not. Don't be such a pup."

"I am not a pup! _You're_ a pup!"

They jostled each other as they approached, and then, realizing they were being watched, gave each other a withering glare and trotted to Edmund's side.

"Grown older," Philip muttered. "Not grown up."

"You wanted to see us, King Edmund?" the one with the scratched nose said, panting up at him, yellow eyes eager.

"We did what you said," his twin reported with a doggy smile. "We inspected the training yard. Remus dug up a–"

"It wouldn't have been a problem if you'd kept your big nose out of it. I was about to–"

Romulus nudged his brother into silence, suddenly concerned. "Is something wrong, King Edmund?"

"Is something wrong?" Remus echoed, his face falling.

Edmund made his expression stern. The Wolves were always very sensitive to his moods. If they started feeling sorry for him now, he didn't know if he could hold up. The sudden shock of what had happened to Linnet, to Peter, was a bit too raw just yet. It didn't quite seem real. Better keep it that way for now.

"I need you both to listen to me very carefully," Edmund said. "You must not repeat what I am about to tell you. Not to anyone, do you understand?"

The Wolves nodded, a little bewildered.

"The High King and Lady Linnet were attacked a little while ago. He is badly hurt. The lady is nowhere to be found."

"We can find her." Remus glanced at his twin and then turned sympathetic eyes back on Edmund. "We can find anyone."

Romulus nodded. "We should hurry before the scent is gone."

"Good. We'll start at the rocks down at the end of the cove." Edmund patted Philip's neck. "Ready?"

With a nod, the Horse headed out of the courtyard, the Wolves scurrying out ahead of him and the Swallow soaring overhead. Edmund took one last look towards the Cair, towards his brother's balcony. He wasn't surprised to see Susan standing there, slender and pale, her black hair tousled by the wind. She lifted one white hand in farewell. He answered with a nod and the touch of his gloved fingers to his lips.

"Take care of him," he whispered."Aslan be with you both."

They were soon at the grotto. Edmund stayed out on the beach with Philip, not wanting to muddle any tracks or scents that might still be there. The Wolves snuffled the sand before they went in.

"King Peter and the lady were here," Romulus said. "Coming from the Cair. No one else today, I think."

"Here!" Remus yipped from the west side of the rocks, nearer the forest. "The others came from here!"

Romulus bolted to where his twin was still investigating, brow furrowed in concentration. "There was a Centaur."

"Two Centaurs," Remus corrected. "And a Faun or a Satyr."

Romulus examined the place his brother was sniffing. "Satyr."

Edmund urged Philip a little closer to them. "Is that all?"

"A Wolverine," Remus said triumphantly, and then he frowned. "And . . . something else."

Romulus snuffled beside him again. "We don't know this one, King Edmund."

Edmund dismounted, careful not to step in any of the tracks. The ones that had puzzled the Wolves were little claw marks, four sets, two on each side of a wide body that had slithered along the ground.

"Smells fishy." Remus looked at him, head tipped to one side. "A Snake with legs?"

Edmund nodded grimly. "Just about. A Lizard. A big one."

Philip whickered, showing the whites of his eyes. "It must have come up from Calormen. From the desert."

Again Edmund nodded. "Is that all? Peter said something about boots."

The Wolves moved closer to the rocks, closer to the entrance to the grotto, and then Romulus bristled.

"A man."

"Not a man," Remus insisted, growling low.

There were definite boot marks here. Human? Not human?

"So which is it?" Edmund asked.

The Wolves looked at each other and then looked rather ashamed.

"We're not sure yet," Romulus admitted. "Maybe we can figure it out if we look inside."

Edmund nodded towards the opening, and the Wolves scurried inside.

"Stay here, Philip," Edmund told the Horse. "Chip?"

The little Swallow swooped down and landed on Edmund's outstretched finger.

"Yes, King Edmund?"

"I want you to come in with me. Peter said there was a Bat watching them, and I want you to see if you can tell anything about where he came from or where he went."

Chip looked very solemn. "Of course."

Edmund carried him into the grotto and let him flutter up to the small opening in the ceiling. This had always been a place of mystery and wonder, a place where he and his family had spent hot summer evenings in the cool dimness, listening to the Merfolk sing and tell their ancient tales. Now–

"King Peter's blood," Romulus said, eyes mournful as he sniffed a dark stain on the rocks.

Remus traced the brownish smear to the water's edge. "They dragged him here. The one with boots did."

_And dumped him in. _Edmund felt fury run hot through his veins. _Left him for dead. And Linnet– _

"What about the lady?" he asked, voice taut.

"Her blood is here," Romulus said after more searching.

"Just a little," Remus offered, no doubt trying to be helpful. "Not very much at all."

Edmund studied the stains. One, little more than a smudge, was just higher than his shoulder, possibly from a blow to Linnet's face or head. She wasn't very tall. The other stain was perhaps waist high, perhaps from her hand or arm. Likely they would have bound her wrists. Obviously, they hadn't been overly gentle in doing so. Good thing Peter wasn't here. Just this would be enough to make him rush out and do something stupid. As usual.

"All right," he said, not allowing any trace of emotion into his voice. "Have you figured out who was wearing the boots? Was it a man or not?"

Romulus nodded. "Man."

"Not," Remus said at the same instant.

Edmund couldn't help a faint scowl. "If it's not, Remus, what is it?"

Remus considered another moment, snuffling the rocks near Linnet's blood, and then he grinned up at Edmund, tongue lolling in satisfaction. "Tree."

His brother shoved him, glaring. "Tree? Trees do not wear boots."

"This one does," Remus said, sneering. "Don't tell me you can't smell it, too."

"Tree?" Edmund dropped to one knee next to him. "Do you mean a Dryad? Or . . . what are the male ones? A Dru?"

The Wolf ducked his head as if he had been scolded. "I don't know, King Edmund. It smells a little like that."

"It smells more human," Romulus insisted.

"You're sure there wasn't a man and a Dru?"

Both Wolves shook their heads.

"Just one smell, King Edmund," Romulus said. "And from this place, it's with Lady Linnet all the time."

Remus nodded, for once agreeing with his brother.

"All right," Edmund said. "Two Centaurs, a Wolverine, a Satyr, a Lizard and this . . . man. Is that all?"

"No other scents," Romulus said. "No other tracks."

"Chip?" Edmund called. "Did you find anything up there?"

The Swallow immediately peered through the hole in the rock ceiling. "There was a Bat, King Edmund, but I can tell you little more than that. I would not be surprised, though, if the others were waiting on the bluff above the beach, waiting for his signal."

"All right. Now that we know what we're dealing with, we'd better see if we can figure out where they took Lady Linnet from here."

The Wolves hurried back out onto the beach, still sniffing and searching. Farther around the back side of the rocks they picked up the trail.

"Here, King Edmund!" Romulus said. "They took the lady this way. Into the forest."

Edmund leapt into the saddle. "Come on, Philip. Chip, get as high as you can. Let us know if you see anything."

The Swallow shot into the sky, and Edmund urged his Horse after the Wolves. There were more signs now they were in the wood and not on the rocks, tracks on the soft ground, crushed grass, torn leaves, the print of dainty velvet slippers.

_I'll find her and bring her home to you, Peter. I will._

They worked their way deeper and deeper into the wood, and then the Wolves stopped.

Edmund pulled up, too. "What is it?"

Philip looked back at him, clearly puzzled, but the twins merely sniffed the clearing, running in circles, yipping and whining.

"Romulus!" Edmund demanded when they gave him no answer. "Tell me."

Both Wolves sat on their haunches, heads down and tails drooping.

"The lady," Romulus said. "We can't smell her anymore."

Edmund leapt out of the saddle. There were no more slipper marks. They ended abruptly where the grass and flowers had been churned up. Clearly there had been a struggle.

"Do you smell any more blood?"

"No," Romulus said. "She must have been picked up and carried off."

"There is blood here," Remus said with a bit of a grin, and Edmund scowled at him.

"Whose?"

Remus nodded, tongue lolling again. "I think it belongs to that Lizard thing."

Romulus shoved him, and the grin vaished.

"Good," Edmund said tautly. "We'd better keep moving. There's a village on the other side of the forest. Perhaps someone there will have seen something."

He got back in the saddle and the pushed on. Another mile. Two. Then the Wolves stopped again.

"A stream, King Edmund," Romulus said. "They'll try to hide their trail here, like as not."

"We'll find them on the other side," Remus assured him. "It won't do them any good."

They all waded across and, true to his word, Remus picked up the scent about half a mile upstream.

"This way, King Edmund," he panted, yellow eyes gleaming. "This way."

Edmund leaned forward in the saddle, and Philip picked up his pace. Their quarry couldn't be too far ahead now.

"No!" Remus howled all of a sudden. "Nooooooooooooooooooooo!"

"What is it?" his brother asked.

"The boots. I can't find the tracks anymore."

With an oath, Edmund flung himself out of the saddle. He could see the clear print of the Centaurs' heavy hooves, the smaller split hooves of the Satyr, the Wolverine's paws and the low, wide trail of the Lizard, but there were no boot prints.

**Author's Note: Please tell me what you think so I'll know whether or not to keep on with the story. Lady Alambiel was gracious enough to let me borrow her Wolves, Romulus and Remus Greyback, who were introduced in her story **_**A Light in the Darkness: Refracted**_** and appear in several stories after that. I think they're precious and, even though they're a little older in this story, they're still not really grown up. Thanks for letting me borrow them, Lady A! –}-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Six

Edmund clutched Philip's reins more tightly as he stood watching the Greyback twins snuffling along the bank of the stream they had just crossed. Finally the Wolves came crawling back to him, ears and tails drooping.

"We can't find him anywhere," said Romulus. "The man."

"Tree," Remus insisted, and then he ducked his head at his brother's glare.

"Keep looking," Edmund said after another taut moment. "Man or Tree, I'm almost certain the one wearing boots has Lady Linnet."

They made their way upstream another mile or more, Edmund looking for any sign of Linnet, Philip trailing behind him, wary and watching, and little Chip flying overhead. The Wolves, sniffing and yipping and squabbling, were almost lost in the lush spring foliage.

Philip slowed to a stop with a disgusted snort. "One of them has wandered off again."

Edmund narrowed his eyes, scanning the trees. One of the Wolves was about a hundred yards ahead. The other was nowhere to be seen.

"Remus?"

The Wolf up ahead came bounding back to him. "Romulus, King Edmund."

"Where's Remus?"

Romulus frowned. "He was just ahead of me. I don't–"

"Over here!" Remus yipped. "King Edmund, over here!"

Edmund hurried in the direction of his voice and found the Wolf standing over a dark patch in the ground, growling faintly.

"What is it?"

"The Lizard thing, King Edmund. He is bleeding still, though less than before. He seems to have split off from the others."

Romulus came into the clearing, sniffing, too. "The Satyr is with him." He followed the trail another twenty yards or so and then came back. "But they separate there by the rocks."

"Leading us a merry chase no doubt," Edmund grumbled. "Romulus, go back to where you left the other tracks. I want to know if they're staying together."

"Yes, King Edmund."

Romulus darted into the forest, and Edmund knelt by the dark stain on the ground.

"Do you think it is a serious wound, My King?" the Horse asked.

"It doesn't seem so. I was just wondering how he might have gotten it."

Remus panted up at him, grinning. "Do you think it was the lady, King Edmund?"

There wasn't a trace of amusement in Edmund's expression. "I hope so."

"Just as you thought, King Edmund," Romulus announced as he loped back into sight. "The Wolverine and the two Centaurs have each gone a different way, but all of them are headed upstream."

"No sign of the boots though, right?"

Romulus dropped his head. "No, King Edmund."

The one with the boots, whatever he was, had at least at one point had Linnet. All the rest of his gang had come this way, leading them upstream. Perhaps–

Edmund shielded his eyes with one hand as he looked up into the sky. "Chip! This way, Chip! We're going back downstream!"

The little Swallow circled, a black speck against the sun, and then swooped low. "Did you find her? Lady Linnet? Did you find her?"

"Not yet," Edmund said. "Keep looking for anything that might help."

"I will! I will!"

Chip shot into the sky, this time heading the way they had come.

OOOOO

The first thing Linnet was aware of was the throbbing pain at the back of her head. The second was darkness. She blinked hard, trying to clear her vision, and realized that darkness was not completely unrelieved. Here and there, a little crack between the wooden boards admitted daylight. She more smelled than saw the straw she was lying on. Felt it, too, rough and prickly against her skin and in her clothes, poking her except where something else, a crate or a burlap sack, pressed against her.

Was she in a stable? No, stables did not typically bounce and sway. They did not usually jolt and rattle. She lay still another moment, listening. She could hear horses and, from time to time, the same sort of clatter, coming close and then fading away. A cart. She was in a covered cart on one of the main roads. It was too well traveled to be anything less.

She tried to sit up and realized her wrists and ankles were bound. How long had she been here. Long enough for her limbs to grow numb. By now, someone had to know she was missing. Someone would have to be looking for her. Peter would–

A sob tore through her and her eyes filled with tears. Peter. She could still see him there on the rocks, broken and bleeding, struggling to defend her even then, until he had been shoved into the sea and disappeared. _Peter. Peter._

Another sob wracked her, and she forced herself to be calm. It was hard enough to breathe when she was gagged so tightly that the cloth cut into the corners of her mouth. Panicking now would not help matters. _Oh, Peter . . ._

_Go into the water. _She remembered his urgent words, his eyes blue and intent, his usually gentle mouth pressed into a hard line. _Swim into the sea. The Merfolk will see you. They'll help you. _

Had they seen when Peter was dropped, defenseless, into their domain? Had they helped? She had no answers. Her captors certainly thought he was dead. It had made her blood burn to hear them jesting about it. Ada would have fainted to see her smash a sharp stone into that hideous Calormene Lizard's side, but by then she had had enough of his nasty insinuations and hissing laughter. She did not care that, just afterwards, someone had struck her in the back of the head. It had probably been the same one who had rolled Peter into the water and then helped the Satyr tie her hands, the one they called Argyros.

Then they had dragged her outside to where the others were waiting, ignoring her tears and pleas, silencing her questions with this too-tight gag and then pushing her ahead of them into the forest. There were six of them it seemed. Besides the two who had been in the grotto, there was a Wolverine, sharp clawed and surly, the Lizard, and two nearly silent Centaurs. They were the ones who seemed most out of place. Centaurs? Peter always said the Centaurs were the most honorable of his subjects, the most loyal to Aslan, His prophets and seers. What were these two–

Abruptly, the jolting of the cart ceased.

"Are you enjoying your journey, My Lady?"

Linnet recoiled as her captor pushed back one corner of the heavy cloth covering the cart, the sudden brightness bringing tears to her eyes once more.

"What's this? Tears?" Argyros mocked as he wiped them away with his calloused thumb. "And on so happy an occasion? Tsk, tsk, tsk."

She tried to pull away from him, but the barrel behind her head would not allow it. Instead she merely looked at him, wondering where he was taking her and who he was. _What_ he was. She had seen a number of strange creatures since she had come to Narnia, but she had never seen one like him.

At first, judging by his boots, breeches and tunic, she had thought him human, but now she was sure he was not, at least not entirely. He was tall, nearly as tall as Peter, but slender as a willow branch and brown as a nut tree. His hair, wild and thick as brambles in a hedge, came down to his shoulders, his features were as fine and comely as those of the Dryads she had seen, and his eyes– His eyes were silver.

He stood smirking at her, defying her to unravel his origins or his motives. As if she could say anything with this gag in her mouth. After a moment, he reached towards her again, taking her chin not too roughly in his hand.

"I always heard you were beautiful. Pity you are both destined elsewhere."

Puzzled, she struggled to speak, but he only began pulling the heavy cloth back over her, warily glancing up at the empty sky.

"Best keep still, My Lady. If you draw attention to yourself, I cannot answer for your safety." He gave her an insolent wink. "Rest easy. We have far to go."

An instant later, she was again in darkness and the cart jolted forward once more.

OOOOO

"Here! He's here, King Edmund! Here! Here!"

Edmund leaned forward in the saddle as Philip leapt a fallen tree and pulled up next to the Greyback twins. The Wolves were grinning and panting as they looked up at him.

"Right here," Romulus said, nosing one of a number of bootprints in the muddy bank of the stream.

"Deeper than before," Remus added, and Edmund dismounted, examining the tracks.

"He's carrying her. Must be. Come on."

The mud gave way to grass and then leaves and forest undergrowth and then the hard-packed dirt of a well-traveled path. Edmund figured they must have gone two or three miles by this time, the tracks twisting and turning through the trees, sometimes west, sometimes east, but always, eventually, north. Still, whoever had Linnet was hours ahead now and the sun was beginning to sink below the treetops. Finally Edmund looked up again.

"Do you see anything, Chip?"

"A road, King Edmund!" the Swallow peeped. "There's a road! This way!"

He soared ahead, and Romulus nodded. "He went that way, King Edmund."

"I'll find him!"

Remus dashed into the brush with Romulus right after him.

"You know what that means, My King," Philip said, more than a little regret in his tone.

Edmund nodded, his lips pressed together, and then he managed a slight smile. "They're good trackers. They'll find something. They have to."

Philip merely looked at him, dark eyes sympathetic, and said nothing more. Edmund hurried him along, following the boisterous Wolves until they reached the edge of the forest and the road Chip had seen. Romulus and Remus were running back and forth, noses to the ground, whining disconsolately.

"He was here," Remus said, ears and tail drooping. "He was here, see?"

Edmund saw nothing but tufts of wiry grass, but he knew how sensitive a Wolf's nose was and did not in the least doubt it was true.

"And now?"

Romulus slunk over to him, looking no higher than his boots. "Now he is not."

"You lost him on the road," Philip said, even his mild tone an accusation, and the Wolves gave twin sighs.

"He is just gone," Romulus said, nosing the ground. "His scent stops here."

Philip snorted derisively, and Edmund shook his head.

"I don't think they lost the scent," he said, looking up and down the road that stretched before them. "I think our prey never stepped on the road."

The Wolves sat up, looking at each other, baffled.

"But he didn't go back," Remus insisted. "We would have smelled him."

"We would have," Romulus said.

Edmund dropped to one knee, studying the rutted road. "I don't think he went back. Look at the tracks here, horses and mules, wagons and carts and carriages. If he isn't walking anymore, he wouldn't leave a trail, am I right?"

Romulus nodded, looking rather relieved. "No one can track something that isn't touching the ground."

Philip huffed but kept silent.

"Which way, King Edmund?" Chip swooped down to land on Edmund's shoulder. "Which way now?"

"Did you see anything from where you were?"

The Swallow fluffed his feathers. "There were a pair of Leopards heading north along with five or six Deer and a family of Badgers. A man was driving a wagon south, but it was empty, I could tell for certain, and he was alone except for his oxen. I saw nothing else."

Edmund let out a heavy breath. This was one of the busiest roads in Narnia, leading south to the pass into Archenland and north to Ettinsmoor. _Which way? Aslan, which way?_

Receiving no answer, he climbed back into the saddle. "There's a fresh stream and good campground about a mile ahead. We might as well stop there before it's too dark to see."

**Author's Note: Hmmm . . . what IS going on here? Do let me know what you think if you want more.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Seven

"And that's all?"

Lucy looked expectantly at Darreth, but he merely looked apologetic.

"The other lords, the ones who think we should separate from Narnia's rule, they've told me nothing more. They seem to be waiting for something."

"Waiting?" she asked, glancing at the Centaur who stood stone faced beside her with his brawny arms crossed over his chest. "Waiting for what?"

Darreth could only shrug. "They do not say, Queen Lucy. It seems likely they are waiting to see what happens in Narnia before they make any overt move."

Oreius narrowed his eyes, taking one intimidating step towards Darreth. "And you are certain these rebellious lords are not in league with those making mischief in Narnia?"

Lucy gave the Terebinthian Duke just the tiniest bit of an encouraging smile, and the uneasiness left his expression.

"No, General," he said, looking the Centaur in the face. "I cannot say I am certain, but I think it most likely. I know these men. They have no interest in Narnia except as it affects our own land. That does not mean they would hesitate even a moment to use Narnia's misfortunes to gain an advantage for themselves."

"No doubt." Oreius replied. "Then I suppose there is little we can do but wait."

"True." Darreth gave Lucy only the slightest of hopeful smiles. "But I trust your time here will not be unpleasant for all that. I thought perhaps– Uh, perhaps–" Reddening under Oreius's glare, he made a swift bow. "Perhaps I should tend to some pressing matters until luncheon is served. Until then, Your Majesty. General."

He scurried out of the room, and Lucy had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"That was very bad of you, Oreius."

The Centaur merely lifted one eyebrow. "How is that, My Queen? I neither said nor did anything untoward."

"And neither did he."

Oreius merely snorted, and now Lucy did laugh.

"At least he didn't sneak into my room again."

"A flagrant breech of security, not to mention protocol and decorum, is hardly a laughing matter, Your Majesty."

She sighed. "I know. I know. But everything is all right. You worry too much, especially about Lord Darreth. He would never hurt anyone."

The General's expression darkened. "After what happened to your brothers, My Queen, I am not as certain of that as you."

"That was years ago," she reminded him, taking his arm as she got up from the council table. "Since then–"

"My Lady! My Lady!" One of the castle pages, a lanky little boy of perhaps twelve, blustered into the room, his brown eyes enormous. "Please, My Lady, you must come to the courtyard. My Lord the Duke says you must come at once!"

Lucy gave Oreius a worried glance, and then they both hurried out into the corridor and down the wide steps that led out into the courtyard. There was a knot of ten or fifteen of Darreth's people, maids and grooms and the like, huddled around the Duke who knelt by something lying there in the grass.

"Darreth, what is it?"

Lucy put one hand to her mouth, faltering as she drew close enough to see. A glorious golden creature, half lion and half eagle, lay on his side fighting for breath, limp wings still outspread.

"My– My Queen," the Gryphon gasped. "Urgent. The High King–"

Lucy dropped to her knees beside Darreth, putting one soothing hand on the heaving side. "Shh, take a moment, Areli. Catch your breath."

"The High King?" Oreius urged. "What is it? What is your message?"

"The High King was–" Again the Gryphon gasped. "Attacked. Gravely injured. Flew two days to get– cordial. Urgent you–"

He convulsed, golden eyes rolling back in his head, and Lucy looked up at Oreius.

"My cordial. Now."

Oreius galloped back into the castle.

"You'll be all right, Areli," Lucy soothed, trying to make her expression reassuring and not panicked. "Hold on just another moment."

The Gryphon blinked at her, for a moment looking confused, and then he seemed to see her clearly again. "My Queen, you–" His beak opened wide as he again struggled to breathe. "Lady Linnet– Urgent. High King–"

The golden body convulsed once more and then was still.

"No," Lucy breathed, taking two handfuls of thick fur. "No, no, no."

Darreth looked at her, brow wrinkled. "What happened to him? I do not see any sign of injury."

"I don't know," she mourned. "He's been our swiftest messenger ever since we came to Cair Paravel. Even the Hawks can't fly so far and so fast. But now–"

"I have seen it before, My Queen."

Startled, Lucy looked up to see Oreius standing over her, the useless vial of cordial gleaming in his large hand.

"The journey was too much for him. If he left Narnia but two days ago, he must have flown the whole while at top speed and without rest." There was pity in the Centaur's grave face. "I do not doubt his heart merely burst."

"Oh, Oreius." Tears filled Lucy's eyes. "No. No."

"For the sake of the High King, he did all he could to reach us and the cordial. And now–"

"And now he cannot take the cordial back." Lucy scrambled to her feet and took the vial from him. "We have to get home. Oreius, order the crew to prepare to set sail at once."

Darreth nodded in sympathy. "I will see your Gryphon is buried with all due respect."

"Thank you." She reached down to lay her hand on Areli's feathered head. "Aslan bring you safe to His country, faithful friend," she whispered, and then she stood straight again. "I'm sorry, Darreth, but we cannot wait even for the burial. We must go right now."

The Duke was immediately beside her. "Your Majesty–"

"I won't bother with my things. You can send them on later. Right now we have to get the Splendor Hyaline–"

"Queen Lucy–"

"–stocked for the return journey. Round up the crew from wherever they're idling. I think we–"

"Lucy!"

She finally stopped and looked at him, her lips pressed into a tight line and her eyes stinging with tears. "I don't have time to stop, Darreth. Peter might already–"

"I know." He took her hand, looking into her eyes as he did, his words low and calm. "I know. You cannot spare a moment. I just thought it might be faster if we commandeer one of the merchant ships that is already prepared to set sail. You and your General can leave right away. In the next few minutes. Your crew can bring your ship back to Narnia later."

She nodded, smiling faintly, and then threw herself into his arms, wanting to weep with relief. "That's brilliant. Oh, thank you. Thank you! Can you see to it for us?"

"Of course, Your Majesty. In fact–" He glanced at Oreius and then looked hopefully at Lucy. "I thought I might go along with you. If there's any way I can be of help, to your brothers I mean, it is certainly the least I could do."

"Yes!" She gave him a tight hug and then darted away. "I'll just grab a few things I need. Oreius, help him make arrangements about the ship."

As she scurried up to the chamber she had been using, she didn't have time to worry about what Oreius thought about their plans. Darreth would best know how to handle Terebinthian merchants and their crews and get her back to Peter as quickly as possible. Gravely injured, Areli had said. And what had he meant to tell them about Linnet? Poor thing, she and Susan must be frantic by now. And Edmund.

A certain cold satisfaction filtered into her. Aslan have mercy on whomever had done this to Peter, for Edmund surely would not. Whether he took the entire army or hunted them down alone, there would be no escape for them.

"Aslan," she murmured as she stuffed some traveling clothes and other necessaries into a bag, "be with my brothers. Don't let Peter die before I can get home, and please, please, don't let Edmund do anything stupid trying to track down whoever did this to him. Dear Aslan, give him strength and wisdom. And please help Susan and Linnet not to worry too much." She blinked hard. "And me, too."

Areli had left Cair Paravel two days ago. Winds with them, it would be another ten at least before they got home. By then, Peter could be–

No, she wouldn't think that. Not now. Not yet. He had been alive when the Gryphon left Narnia. He would be alive when Lucy got back. He had to be.

OOOOO

Linnet's eyes fluttered open. She had fallen asleep again, lulled by the heat and the rocking motion of the cart, but it was cooler now, dark from what little she could tell, and the cart had stopped. Night again? How long had it been? She didn't know. It seemed she had never done anything but lie in this musty straw, limbs aching, throat dry, stomach cramped with hunger, and remember her last sight of Peter as he disappeared into the sea.

_Aslan_, she begged for what must be the thousandth time, _don't let him be dead. Please, don't let him be dead. Let him come for me. Help me find a way out. Please, Aslan, please._

The gag muffled her gasp when the heavy cloth covering the cart was pulled aside. Argyros was smiling down on her, his silver eyes gleaming in the flickering firelight.

"Good evening, My Lady. I was wondering if you would care to join me for dinner."

Her empty stomach growled in answer, and he chuckled.

"Shall I take that as a yes? Truly, I am honored."

He made an elegant bow and then nodded to someone she could not see. Brawny arms reached over the side of the cart and lifted her out. It was one of the Centaurs, the one whose tail and hair and beard were an inky black along with his smoldering eyes. He set her down on a blanket next to the fire, and she realized they were in a cave of some sort. The other Centaur stood glaring down at her. He was blue eyed and fair haired, but his look of disdain was a mirror of the first's.

She saw no sign of the Lizard, bu the Satyr squatted by the fire, stirring something in a bubbling pot while the Wolverine finished ripping the skin from a brace of rabbits. Whatever they were cooking, she wasn't sure she could keep it down.

Argyros dropped to one knee beside her. "It will be quite difficult for you to eat, My Lady, with this gag still on. If you will promise to keep quiet, I will be happy to remove it."

She considered refusal, but there was a bucket of water not three feet away from her. Oh, just a taste–

She nodded swiftly, and he removed the cloth.

Immediately, she licked her dry lips. "Water. Please."

"As you will, My Lady." He picked up the dipper and held it to her mouth. "Ah, ah, ah, not too quickly. No use having it all back again."

She gulped it down anyway, half-sobbing with relief, and then he set down the dipper.

"Now, as delighted as I would be to feed you myself, dear lady, I feel even you are not used to such pampering. If I unbind your hands, do not make me regret doing so, am I understood?"

He smiled as he said it, but the warning was not lost on her. Again she nodded.

He took out a long, wicked-looking blade and cut the ropes at her wrists and ankles. Almost immediately, the numbness turned to painful tingling as the blood rushed back into her hands and feet. She managed to sit up, her eyes fixed on the half-Dru, but she said nothing.

"Very good," he said. "And very wise. You will find that, if you cooperate, things need not be so bad for you. We have no desire to harm you, Valiant Queen Lucy."

**Author's Note: Ummmm . . . who? I'd love to hear your thoughts.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Peter and Edmund Pevensie and all the characters and situations in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C. S. Lewis and not to me.**

Chapter Eight

Edmund took another bite of broiled trout, hardly tasting it. He had eaten little else the past few days, the path running as near the stream as it did. He thought it wise to save the food in his pack for when nothing else was available. Of course, the others fended for themselves as was natural. Philip ate the lush spring grass. Chip ate berries and seeds and the occasional grasshopper. Romulus and Remus seemed especially delighted to bring back their prey, raw and bloody, for his approval. Even after being with Edmund so long, the Wolves still didn't quite understand why he found this unappetizing. Not that he had much of an appetite anyway.

Philip had to urge him to eat, telling him he'd be of no use to Linnet or anyone else if he were too weak to stand. Edmund knew he was right, but no matter what he put in his mouth, it all tasted the same. He choked it down anyway.

"Doesn't it taste good?" Remus asked, looking up from his half-eaten rabbit, teeth gleaming in the gathering darkness.

"Of course it doesn't." Romulus swallowed down one last bite of weasel and jerked his head towards the crackling fire. "He burnt it."

"I thought he likes it burnt," Remus replied, and he wriggled over and laid his head on Edmund's leg, looking up at him with wondering yellow eyes. "Don't you like your food burnt, King Edmund?"

In spite of himself, Edmund managed a faint smile. How long ago it seemed since he had sent them out to the training yard while he was in council, and Remus, as Edmund had found out only later, had dug up a bad-tempered Badger and gotten a scratched nose as payment. In so many ways, they were still the green pups Peter had assigned to guard him. _Oh, Peter– _

"Yes."

The word came out in a half-strangled croak, and he reached over to stroke Remus's head, sinking his fingers into the thick fur. He'd lost track of the days. Lost track of Linnet. By some miracle, Romulus had picked up the trail of the Satyr and that strange Calormene Lizard two days back, but then they had lost it again. And who knew if those two were headed towards or away from whichever of them had Linnet? All Edmund knew to do now was continue forward in the direction of her abductors' last footmarks. North. North where? And was she still alive? Was Peter?

He flung the remaining half of his trout onto the fire, pushed a startled Remus away, and stalked over to the stream. He stuck his hands into the water and then brought them up to splash his face. Susan would be horrified at his scraggly stubble of beard. He rarely took time to shave these days, and if she saw him, she would no doubt declare him in need of a haircut as well as a shave.

_Oh, Su, are you all right? Are you taking care of him? Did Lucy come home?_

No, she couldn't have gotten home yet. If she had, she would have given Peter the cordial, and Peter would be here with him now. There was no doubt of that.

He scrubbed his face and neck with both hands, the icy water bringing clarity to his thoughts. The only thing he could do for Peter at this point was find Linnet and bring her back. If it wasn't already too late. If she wasn't–

He whirled when something nudged his shoulder, and then he exhaled heavily. "Philip."

The Horse practically glared at him. "A pack of Werewolves could be at your heels, and you'd never know it."

Edmund pushed his wet hair out of his eyes and frowned. "What do you want?"

"Those two." Philip tossed his head back towards the fire. "Your Wolves. They've wandered off again."

Edmund pressed his lips together to keep from swearing. "Where did they–"

"King Edmund!" Romulus padded out of the dark trees, skittish and glancing backwards. "You ought to–"

"Where have you been?" Edmund snapped. "Where's Remus?"

Again the Wolf looked back into the darkness. "Whatever it is that's been following us the past two days is out there now. We were trying to see what it is."

"And?"

Romulus ducked his head. "I do not know. It smells . . . wrong."

Philip snorted but said nothing.

Edmund narrowed his eyes, scanning the trees. "Which way?"

Before the Wolf could reply, there was a yelp from out of the darkness.

"Remus!"

Romulus bolted into the forest, and Edmund started after him. Before either of them could go more than a step or two, there was a rustling in the underbrush. Into the circle of firelight stepped a large Tiger. He was carrying a Wolf by the scruff of the neck, as if he were carrying a puppy.

"Remus!"

Romulus ran to his brother, nudging him with his nose when the Tiger dropped him in a curled up little heap on the ground. Remus scrambled, shamefaced, to his feet as the Tiger made a slight bow.

"King Edmund."

Edmund pressed his lips into a hard line. "Babur."

Again the Tiger bowed.

"What are you doing here?" Edmund demanded. "I ordered you to stay at the Cair."

"I want to help find the lady. I am useless back at the Cair."

"Any soldier who cannot obey orders is useless anywhere." Eyes hard, Edmund jerked his chin towards the south. "Go back. Now."

"My King."

Edmund glared at Philip. "What?"

"Perhaps," the Horse said mildly, "you should find out how things are at home, how the High King fares, before you send away someone who knows."

Edmund let out a heavy breath and then nodded, finally turning back to the Tiger. "How is Peter?"

Babur looked at the ground. "Not well, Your Majesty. I left two days after you did. At that time, because the High King would not lie still and allow his body to heal, the healer Milos was forced to give him something to make him sleep. The Queen Susan was very concerned that it might do him more harm than good and insisted on watching over him every moment."

"And Lucy?"

"They sent a Gryphon to Terebinthia, to fetch back the cordial. Whether he has returned, I do not know."

"Do you bring any other news from Cair Paravel?"

The Tiger did not lift his head. "No, Majesty."

"Very well. You are dismissed. Report back to Cair Paravel, and report to General Oreius the moment he returns. I'm sure he'll be very interested in your recent attention to duty."

For a moment, Babur was silent. Then he finally looked up.

"Forgive me, King Edmund, but there is more you should know."

Edmund crossed his arms over his chest. "And that is?"

"I think I know where they are taking the Lady Linnet."

Philip's eyes widened, and the two Wolves looked at each other.

"We haven't been able to track them," Romulus said. "I don't see how you–"

"I rolled in those feverfew bushes we passed two days ago." Babur told him. "You must have noticed them. Their scent is quite strong."

Remus grinned. "That's what seemed so out of place. They don't grow here, and I–"

"Hush." Edmund narrowed his eyes at the Tiger. "How could you know where they're taking Linnet? What have you found?"

"I started where you did, at the grotto. I followed their tracks and yours to the road where they split up. You were following the others, so I decided to go with the Wolverine and the two Centaurs until I lost them in the rocks in the foothills early on."

"That doesn't tell us anything we don't already know," Edmund said. "I don't doubt they had a meeting place arranged before they separated. They're probably back together again by now."

"Probably," Babur said. "But if we know where they are going, we can catch up."

Philip nodded. "It would be quicker than tracking."

"So if you lost them, how do you know where they're going?" Edmund asked, his expression more than a little cold.

"I heard them talking," Babur said, a sudden grimness in his tone. "I was not close, and I did not hear much of what they said. Just a name."

Edmund looked at him warily. "A name?"

The Tiger nodded. "Talfryn."

Edmund gasped, feeling as if he had been gut punched. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. _They were taking Linnet to Talfryn? Oh, Aslan, no, don't let it be so. Talfryn? _

Philip shifted on his hooves and tossed his head, the whites of his eyes clearly visible. "Are you certain you heard right?"

Again Babur nodded. "I fear so."

Remus pressed against Edmund's legs, comforting or unsettled, Edmund wasn't certain, but he put one hand on the Wolf's head anyway, grounding himself. "Chip?"

The little Swallow's head popped out from under his wing, and he looked down owlishly from the branch he was perched on. "Yes, King Edmund?"

"I need you to–" Edmund swallowed, trying to be better in control of his voice. "I need you to take a message for me. I know it's already dark, so I won't ask you to go far, just to the Bats I have stationed at the outpost about a mile west of us." He rummaged in his pack with unsteady hands, looking for parchment, quill and ink. "Give one of them this message to take to the Queen Susan as quickly as he is able. Then you come back here. We head north at first light."

OOOOO

Susan leaned against the marble railing of Peter's balcony, looking out over the sea as if she could see all the way to Terebinthia. Why hadn't Areli come back yet? The Gryphon had already had time enough and two or three times over to fly to Lucy and bring the cordial back. Where was he?

She blotted her face and neck with her handkerchief. It was spring, but the day was uncommonly warm, and she wished for a cool breeze to blow in from across the water. For Peter's sake.

She walked back into the room, towards the wide bed of the High King, watching Peter lying there, his sleep heavy and unnatural. "How is he?"

From her chair next to the bed, Mistress Ada smiled, dark eyes full of pity. "The same, My Lady, poor poppet." She patted Peter's forehead with a damp cloth. "Though perhaps just a shade warmer than before."

Susan touched his cheek and then nodded. "I will send for some cold water from the well. I don't know of much else we can do until the cordial gets here."

She pushed the tangled golden hair away from her brother's face, but he did not respond. She hadn't expected him to. She hated that the Centaur healer Milos had found it necessary to sedate him, but she had agreed there was nothing else they could do. Peter had refused to rest, had refused to stay quiet, and Milos had feared he would make his injuries worse, bleeding inside or puncturing his lung with a broken rib.

_I understand_, she wanted to tell him, _but you can't help her like this. You have to be patient._

Ada was looking at her with anxious eyes, and Susan went around to the other side of the bed and sat down beside her. "We will hear something. It must be soon."

The waiting woman nodded with an only half-convincing smile. They both knew Susan had no answers, only the certainty that Edmund would not quit until he either found Linnet or died trying. She could not, would not, indulge the increasing fear that it would be the latter. Where was that Gryphon?

"Queen Susan! Queen Susan!"

She started at the piping little voice. Peter stirred a little, and, shushing him, she leapt to her feet. The Swallow Purl fluttered in through the open balcony doors, clutching a piece of parchment.

"Queen Susan! I have a message! A message from King Edmund! Hurry! Hurry!"

Susan took it from her, and Purl settled on her shoulder, black eyes bright and eager.

"King Edmund sent Chip to give it to a Bat who brought it to me. He said you must read it at once."

Susan already had it open, recognizing Edmund's neat, unornamented handwriting at once. Tears sprang to her eyes as they scanned the terse message. _No. No, no, no. Oh, Aslan, no._

"Please, My Lady." Ada, too, was on her feet, her plump hands clasped over her heart. "Please, has he found my lamb? Has he found my Lady Linnet?"

Susan put a soothing hand on the older woman's shoulder. "You mustn't upset yourself, Mistress Ada. There's nothing known for certain yet."

"Please," Ada begged, tears spilling down her face. "Whatever news there is, I must know something."

Susan sat down on the side of the bed and drew Ada down next to her, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "I will read it to you. 'Su, I promised I'd let you know when I found out anything. Until now, there's been nothing. Tell Bast that Babur is with us now. He says they're taking Linnet to Talfryn. I'll do what I can to get her back before they get her there. Otherwise, we have no option but full-out war. Don't let this get out, but have Oreius come back to the Cair as soon as you can. Take care of Peter. Pray Aslan will be with us. Love, Ed.'"

Ada blinked at her, clearly more frightened by the tremor in Susan's voice than the message itself. "What– what does it mean? Where is Talfryn? What's there?"

Susan crushed the parchment in her fist. "Talfryn isn't a place. He is the King of the Giants."

**Author's Note: Dun dun DUUUUUUUN!**


End file.
